So, I watch him in silence, fingers brushing over the screen, aching for a connection that now feels oceans away.
There are decisions to make. Big ones. Do I stay and try to stitch my life back together here? Or do I go back home and face everything I ran from? What evenishome anymore?
I can’t call Mom. She won’t answer. And I can’t call Brooks. Not after the way things ended. I call the only other person left.
It rings once. Twice. Then Jasper picks up.
"Hullo?" His voice is groggy. Or tired. Or both.
"Hey, little brother," I say softly, trying not to cry. "I was just… checking in."
A beat passes. Then another. "Things are the way they’ve always been," he says flatly.
I sit up straighter, chewing on my thumbnail. "Has Mom… I mean, is she doing any better?"
There’s a sharp inhale on the other end of the line. "If you wanted to know how she was, Ellie, maybe you shouldn’t have bailed the second the funeral was over."
His words are a slap.
"That’s not fair. I needed time to grieve, too."
Jasper scoffs. "Right. From a thousand miles away. In your trendy little apartment. Must be nice."
"Jasp, I didn’t mean—"
"No, you never do," he cuts me off. "But you always leave. And you always call later, acting like you didn’t."
"I miss you," I whisper, but it’s too quiet. Too late.
"I’ve got stuff to do," he mutters. "You made your choice." The words land like a verdict. And the worst part? He’s not wrong. "I just don’t know how to forgive it."
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone like it might light up again. It doesn’t.
So I do the only thing Icando: I bury my face in my pillow and cry. Not because I called too late. But because I might have called too many times, always after I’ve already gone.
I cry until my phone rings, a sound I haven’t heard in days. It startles me.
I wipe my eyes and squint at the blurry screen.Belle.
I answer, my voice barely steady. "Hi."
"Oh, Elowen." Belle’s soft Southern drawl wraps around me like a warm quilt. "I was just calling to see how you were holding up, honey."
"Not good," I admit, the words cracking open something raw in my chest. "Really… not good."
"You want to talk about it?" she asks gently.
I nod before remembering she can’t see me. "My life… it’s just—" I break off, unable to finish. How do you explain to someone that your life has come undone?
"I lost my Daddy too," she says, soft as a lullaby. "It doesn’t stop hurting. But one day, you learn to breathe through it."
Tears fall again, but this time slower. Softer. "Th-thanks," I whisper.
"I saw the video you posted," Belle says, her tone steady and kind. "Took a lot of courage. That kind of honesty? It matters. It means something."
I swallow hard. "I don’t know what to do, Belle."
